Picture Perfect
by scarylolita
Summary: Clyde wants to ask Bebe to marry him, but things keep getting in the way. Meanwhile, Craig is trying to cope with a secret he plans to take to the grave. Het&Slash.


**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **I wrote this after one of my best friends just had a little girl~ I wanted to write some cute family stuff c:**

 **warning: abuse/assault mention**

 **All in Clyde's POV**

* * *

 **January.**

I want to ask Bebe to marry me.

Honestly, I would have done in last year if she didn't wind up pregnant.

Not her fault, though. It takes two to tango… and it's not like I regret it.

So, she gave birth to a girl. Betsy Stevens-Donovan. We named her Betsy, after my mom. My mom died when I was ten and it felt right to name my child in her honour. Sure, we didn't always get along, but she was my mother and I loved her.

After I found out Bebe was expecting, the words flew out of my mouth, but Bebe said no.

" _You're only asking me because I'm pregnant and depressed_ ," she said flatly.

And maybe she was right… but I've given it a lot of thought since then. Maybe it doesn't really matter as long as me and Bebe get along and love Betsy, but I still want to marry her.

I can remember her talking to me about having a big wedding when we were little – long before I ever thought I'd get a chance to be with her. I've loved her for so damn long. That feeling grows stronger every day.

Betsy is two months old now.

Bebe didn't let me come into the hospital room when it started. She said it was going to be gross. I didn't doubt that, but I still wanted to be there for her.

Wendy was there in my stead as I paced in the waiting room, but they ended up calling me in after an hour. I held her hand. She screamed a lot. It was messy and I got nauseous, but I held it in. I didn't want to pass out and miss it.

And I didn't.

Sometimes I think about it and it still doesn't feel quite real. I don't feel like I'm mature or old enough to be a father, but then I remember I'm twenty-three. I'm not a kid anymore. High school is long over.

Time flies. Really, it does.

I still feel like a kid. I'm still emotional. I still cry over everything. In the grand scheme of things, not much about me has changed, but I've learned how to take responsibility for myself… because it isn't just about me anymore. I have a family. I need to do my part.

Tonight is a quiet night. I just got home from work an hour ago. Now I'm cooking dinner while Bebe is doing our taxes at the kitchen table.

"I still have a bit of a gut," Bebe murmurs, leaning back in her chair and patting her post-pregnancy belly.

"I don't care about that," I tell her. "Do you?"

"Sometimes," she admits.

"Well, you shouldn't feel bad about it," I say. "You did an amazing thing."

She smiles faintly. "You're right. She's worth the stretch marks." A pause. "You always make me feel better when you talk like that."

"I'm just being honest," I say, smiling back at her.

Bebe is a hair stylist and I'm a welder. Bebe left the salon after Betsy came, but they said they'd gladly welcome her back when she's ready. Now she does her appointments from home so she can keep an eye on the baby.

We do all right. We're not in debt and we can afford to pay all of our bills on time. I'm kind of proud, because if you asked me where I thought I'd be when I was eighteen… Well, I definitely wouldn't have guessed that I'd be here. I thought I'd be accumulating a major debt and still jobless, living at home. But no. None of that is me. I've lived with Bebe since we graduated college. We got a modest apartment on the edge of town. There has been a lot of new development since we were young. Things in South Park are still boring, but not as boring as they used to be. There's a little more to do. People are slowly becoming a little more open minded, too.

It makes me think of kids like Craig. Craig has been struggling with his sexuality for years. He says he's straight, then he says he doesn't know what he is, then he says he's probably not straight, then he says he's straight again… It's a never ending cycle. I feel for him, though. I can't really imagine what he's going through, but it's probably pretty frustrating living in a redneck town.

Token is gay. He "came out" a few years ago and everyone was surprised because he "didn't look or act like it." He said it was never really a secret, it just wasn't something he felt he needed to announce until he was actually in a relationship. He dated Kevin for nearly a year and then they broke up. Things are all right between them, though. They still hang out. Token says they just weren't right for each other.

Craig, on the other hand, has never dated. He's had sex with some girls in high school, but that was five years ago. I don't know if he's been with anyone since then. Craig isn't one to overshare, unlike the rest of us. Y'know how guys can get when they're together. There was a lot of locker-room sex talk. Craig never participated. Instead, he let his flings do the talking. Girls liked him. A lot.

We still all talk pretty crudely, but even now Craig never joins in on it. He's a pretty serious person. He can hardly take a joke. I think it's because his parents were hard on him and they never validated his emotions. So, now he has a hard time showing them. Craig says he isn't sure if it's because he was the oldest or if it's because he was adopted.

I think Craig is gay and I think he should date Token. I'm not just saying that because they both like men. I'm saying it because that have chemistry and I think they'd be good for one another. When Token is around, Craig laughs more. On a typical day, he never laughs or smiles. He says everyone that works for him hates him, but I don't think he really gives a shit.

He's a very good looking guy. I think a lot of people agree. He probably could have had any girl he wanted in high school if he wanted to. He has those pretty-boy looks that everyone seems to love. He's slender and of average height with very black hair and very blue eyes. He always looks tidy. He has an interesting face. He has a scar below his nose from having paediatric plastic surgery on a unilateral cleft lip and a little mole below his right eye, but other than that his face is perfectly unblemished. There's a ring through the bridge of his nose and his teeth are a little crooked, which adds to his character.

Craig is a tight-ass, though. He goes to therapy every second Tuesday, but he's still just as uptight as he's always been.

He is a front end supervisor at Costco. He says he likes it. He gets paid $21 an hour, so he's pretty satisfied with the independence that gives him. It's good pay for a twenty-three year old, especially considering he never went to university or college. He has been working there since he was eighteen, so he has climbed up the ladder pretty fast because the managers really like him. He works hard and is a pretty professional guy, but he lets it consume him and distract him from things he doesn't want to face.

Jason works at Costco, too, but he does program support. They probably see a lot of each other nonetheless, though, since they're both at front end.

Speaking of Craig…

"Craig's birthday is next week," I point out.

"Let's throw him a little party," Bebe says, glancing up from all the papers in front of her. "Not a surprise party, though. We'll just tell him we're having a get together. I know if we throw him a surprise party he'd give us the silent treatment for weeks."

I chortle at that. "True."

Poor Craig. He's such a hot mess.

* * *

 **February.**

It's the first week of a new month. Last week, we ended up having a few people over for Craig's birthday – Token, Tweek, Kenny, Red, Nichole, Kevin and Jason. It was a quiet, relaxing evening and I think Craig enjoyed it.

Tonight, Bebe is having a girl's night with Wendy, Nichole and Red, so I don't have much going on tonight.

Betsy is sleeping, so instead of bumming around alone, Craig comes over for a glass of wine since he's off early tonight. He comes over straight from work and still has his nametag clipped onto his plaid, button-down. I think one thing he likes about his job is that he doesn't have to dress up. He can just throw on a pair of jeans.

I let him in and we move into the living room.

I grab two wine glasses from the kitchen along with a bottle of the good stuff and just when we're about to sit down, Betsy starts to cry.

"Shoot," I whisper, setting the bottle and glasses down before rushing to her room. I pick her up and take her into the kitchen, where Craig is already heating up a bottle of milk.

"Thanks, dude," I tell him sincerely.

He shrugs. "Sure."

Craig is used to this. Sometimes he babysits for us on his days off. He's good with Betsy, strange as it may seem. She never cries when he holds her. Sometimes when she's being fussy, Craig will take her and be able to calm her down in seconds. I don't know how he does it. I guess he just has the magic touch.

He hands me the baby bottle and we once again relocate into the living room.

"How was work?" I ask him.

Craig cracks open the wine bottle and pours himself a glass. "Typical," he says.

"Any of your employees give you a hard time?"

He snorts at that. "Yeah, I always hear them all talking about me in the break room. They say I seem uptight and miserable. I'm too unfriendly. I'm not approachable. I'm strict. I know I have a hard time laughing, but when I'm in work mode I get pretty serious. Basically, I'm a dick."

Craig seems all aloof and cold, but he really just has social anxiety. He's actually a really good guy, people are just so quick to judge.

"You're not a dick," I say. "You're just a professional person and they probably wish you'd loosen up, but if you're going to be a supervisor you can't let everyone walk all over you."

"Exactly," he responds simply.

It doesn't take him long to finish his first glass. "I hope you have more than one bottle around."

"I do," I tell him with a chuckle. "I know what you're like, so I prepared."

Craig used to be a big drinker in high school, but he stopped once he got a job. He started off as a seasonal employee and his hours were intense, so he didn't have much time to drink or socialize. Since then, he hasn't been a big drinker and he tends to stay away from the hard stuff. If he's drinking the hard stuff, I know something is wrong. It doesn't happen much, but it happens… and he never tells me why. He just throws up, I tend to his hangover, and then life continues.

When Betsy is finished eating, I set the bottle on the table and burp her when she gets fussy.

"I'm not very good with children," I admit.

"You're doing fine," Craig says to me. "You're still new at his. It's a learning process."

"Then how come you're so good at it?" I ask, handing Betsy over to Craig.

"Guess I'm a natural," he says somewhat teasingly. "I still can't believe you have a kid," he murmurs, staring down as he rocks Betsy. It doesn't take her long to fall asleep.

I shrug. "Me neither, honestly… It's surreal, but I love it." I pause. "Do you ever want any children of your own?"

He looks contemplative. "I don't know if I can. I know I've never said this out loud before, but I can't really see myself marrying a girl and settling down to have kids."

"Why not?" I ask.

"You know why," he says.

"Why is it so hard for you to admit?" I ask him.

"I don't know," he confesses. "It just is, but as long as you know it then I shouldn't have to say it."

"You should be able to say it for your own benefit, dude," I point out. "You seem… ashamed."

"I might be," he murmurs. "I know it's screwed up, but it makes me hate myself and I feel all this self-disgust. The hardest person to admit it to is myself."

"Why?" I pry sadly.

"I don't know," he says yet again. "I can't really explain it…"

"Does anyone else know?"

He nods. "My parents… my sister. They say it's internalized homophobia. I guess they're right." He laughs at that. "Still, it didn't stop me from sleeping around. I've slept with lots of guys in high school between the few girls I fucked. I just never mentioned it because that wasn't really something you'd show off in high school. If other guys found out I was getting a dick up the ass on a Friday night, they'd just rip on me for it. They only cared about who was getting whose pussy."

"Guess so," I agree, trying to hide the fact that I'm surprised. "So, who did you sleep with?"

"Uh," he pauses. "Jason, Kenny, Tweek, Kevin, Kyle, Stephen…" he continues listing off names.

"Jesus Christ," I say, trying not to sound too shocked.

Craig smirks slightly. "I know… I'm a big whore."

"Who the fuck is Stephen?"

"Stephen Tamil," he says.

"When did you sleep with Stephen Tamil?" I ask, somewhat incredulous. "Wasn't he a year older?"

"Yeah," he confirms, sighing. "I was fourteen, he was fifteen. He actually… was the first guy I slept with. After that, there was a string of seniors. I know it sounds bad because I was young, but I just didn't want anyone to find out and I knew it'd be easier to keep it a secret if I was sleeping with people in other grades because no one socialized with anyone older or younger than themselves…"

"Damn," I mutter.

"Before that, there were only girls," he continues. "I mean, I was into doing it with Stephen… and it didn't surprise me or anything. I kind of knew I'd be into being with a guy."

"Then why did you sleep with girls?" I pry.

He shrugs. "It was easier, I guess. It was something I felt like I could talk about and not be judged for. If I said I was getting laid by girls, then they'd leave me alone. So, yeah, I guess I slept with girls to try and prove to other people I was straight or whatever…"

"Yeah," I sympathize. "That makes sense." I pause, feeling contemplative. "Why are you telling me all this now?" I wonder.

"Because it doesn't matter at all," he says simply. "High school is over."

"Date Token," I say, half joking and half not.

Craig sighs and shrugs. "Honestly… I've thought about it, but I can't just decide something like that on my own. He has to be into it and just 'cause he likes men, doesn't mean he likes me."

"Talk to him about it," I say simply.

He gives me a dull look. "I wouldn't know how to even start that conversation. It would be weird and awkward and we'd both be uncomfortable. We've all known one another forever and it'd be weird if two of us just started to date. What if things end badly?"

"Token is a people person," I say. "He doesn't make people feel awkward. He's good at making everyone feel comforting. He's, like, the nicest guy ever. He broke up with Kevin, yet they're still close friends. Even if things turned sour with you and him, I doubt they'd stay that way. Token cares about you a lot and even if you stopped going out, doesn't mean he would stop caring."

I guess that's why he's a social worker.

Craig shrugs, not saying anything. He glances off to the side, looking contemplative.

"Do you like him?" I wonder aloud.

Craig sighs again and then says, "Honestly, I don't know. Sometimes I think I do, but other times I think I am just a possessive person."

"You don't seem it," I admit.

"I know," he agrees. "It's because I'm aware of it. I'm mindful of the way I am… and I'm trying to fix certain things, certain bad behaviours."

"Is it because of your social anxiety?" I ask him.

He scoffs. "When I told you that, it was only half the truth. Yeah, I have social anxiety, but it stems from something else."

"What?" I ask, wanting to find out. I'm happy he's talking to me. I know it's probably thanks to the wine, but I'll take it nonetheless and hope he won't regret it come morning.

"Sometimes I think I'm totally fine," he starts with a shrug, seeming to dismiss my question. "It's like, I forget there's anything wrong with me when I've had a string of good days. I feel normal again… but then some tiny, stupid thing happens and I completely snap. I'll literally start crying over the dumbest shit for like an hour straight. Or I'll snap at someone and completely overreact. I'm pretty good at overreacting."

Contrary to popular belief, Craig has always been an emotional guy. He cries a lot, but, unlike me, he's just not one to do it so publically. He tries hard to keep it in until he's alone, but sometimes he can't help but let it out.

Craig hates pranks and jokes and shit like that. We (Token, Jason and I) once showed him an internet screamer when we were seventeen. He threw my laptop across the room and then left my house crying. Jason thought that made it even funnier, but I knew that Craig was gonna be pissed… and I was right. He ignored us all for three weeks. He is so fucking good at the silent treatment. We all felt like shit by the end and I had to buy a new laptop. I think even Jason felt a little bad. I still can't believe he ignored us for that long. We all had to do a lot of grovelling.

When Craig feels something, he feels it in the most intense way – whether it's guilt, shame, sadness, happiness… The list goes on. I guess the bad emotions hit the worst.

"I'm sorry," I say, unsure of what else to offer him. "That sounds frustrating."

"Sometimes I look in the mirror and I don't even recognize myself. I look completely unfamiliar, like I've been morphed with something completely ugly. I can't really explain it so that it makes sense. It's just something that happens."

"You're not ugly," I tell him. "You're pretty much the opposite of ugly. You're a pretty looking dude. If I liked men, I'd totally want your ass."

He snorts at that. "Gee, thanks. What would Bebe say to that?"

"Oh, she'd be down." I chuckle and add, "Seriously, though. Don't worry about things like that."

He shrugs. "I mean, logically I know I'm not ugly… but then I grow unsure. People tend to trust what they see with their own two eyes and it complicates things when there's something in your head that screws it all up."

I soften at that. "Yeah… I can't really imagine it, dude."

"It sucks," he says simply. "Uh, I have borderline personality disorder. They don't typically diagnose teenagers because they're so hormonal, so I only found out a couple years ago."

"Shit," I whisper. "Isn't that, like, super serious?"

I guess it makes sense, though… from what I know of it, at least.

"Yeah, I guess," he says. "That's why I'm so careful at work. I can't afford to get emotional at people who piss me off and screw up my chance at someday becoming a manager."

"Yeah," I respond, feeling like I understand Craig on an entirely new level now. "Thanks for telling me all of this, dude."

"Sure," he says carelessly. A moment later, he stands up. "I'll put her down," he murmurs before wandering into Betsy's room.

When he returns, I say, "I sincerely appreciate all you do for her, man. You're so good with her and I know she's going to grow up loving you like you're part of the family."

Craig smiles faintly – it's small, but it's there.

I think he's so unbelievably lonely. I don't think he allows himself to get close to most people. I think he probably fears being in a relationship.

Craig sits back down next to me and pours me a glass of wine before pouring himself another.

* * *

 **March.**

I'm trying to mind my own business, but it's hard. I told Bebe that Token and Craig should date and she seemed to agree, but she also warned me not to get involved.

Saturday night, I end up at Skeeter's Pub to have a few drinks with Token. We both just got off work. Token is still wearing his casual suit and I'm wearing my coveralls.

Skeeter is Craig's uncle on his dad's side, so he usually lets us drink for free when we swing by and Craig always has a few too many on nights like that. So, we try not to come here too often.

"Craig gonna join you boys tonight?" Skeeter asks as he sets two beer bottles in front of us.

"Craig is still at Costco, but he said he'd join us after," I respond.

"He ain't ever been a social kid," Skeeter says.

"He's still pretty introverted," Token adds. "He prefers to be alone and when he has to spend a lot of time around people, he needs to recharge by staying in."

"Yeah," I snort. "I'm kind of surprised he agreed to come out with us tonight."

"He'll probably ditch us after an hour," Token says.

We continue to make small talk for a few minutes until things get busy and Skeeter's attention is needed elsewhere.

"So, how's work?" I ask Token, sipping on my beer.

"Stressful," he says wearily before doing the same.

"Yeah," I sympathize. "I honestly can't imagine what it's like to do that kind of work… You must see some bad shit."

He nods his head. "It can get tough." A pause. "What about you?"

"All is good," I respond. "I've been seeing more of Craig lately," I decide to add.

"Really?" Token asks. "I haven't seen him since his birthday. He seemed happy that night, though."

"I think he was," I say, pausing. "Hey, what do you think of Craig?"

Token glances at me, raising an eyebrow. "You know what I think of him, man. We've all known one another since we were five. He's one of my best friends." Token stops and then looks contemplative before adding, "I think he's a little uptight and has a hard time relaxing, but I've accepted that as a part of his personality that probably isn't ever going to change."

"Yeah," I agree, chuckling.

"What do YOU think of him?" Token retorts.

"I think he's lonely," I say with a shrug. "I think he wants someone to care about him. I think he wants someone to care for. I think it scares him, though."

"Because he has BPD?" Token ventures.

"How'd you know about that?"

"He told me last year," Token says with a shrug.

"Seriously? What the fuck? He just told me last month…"

"Don't take it personally," Token chides me. "Craig needs to work up to telling people things – especially things like this. He probably felt safe telling me because I deal with a lot of this kind of stuff in my work."

"What do you mean?" I pry.

"Abused children," he specifies.

"Huh?"

He sighs at me for being slow. "Some consider BPD a form of PTSD… others don't, but people with BPD often experience some sort of abuse in their youth. It can be environmental or genetic, though, so abuse isn't always present. It is for Craig, though."

My jaw drops. "What? He didn't tell me that part…"

Token nods his head. "He said I could tell you because he didn't feel like talking about it again. I just wasn't sure if I should. There's a time and place for this kind of talk. Plus, he was pretty vague about it. I don't know who did it or what the nature of the abuse was, but the fact that it happened is bad enough."

"Yeah," I mumble, feeling sympathetic.

I'll have to get over it pretty quick before Craig comes. He isn't a fan of sympathetic, piteous gestures.

It was probably high school. Craig did a lot of risky shit in high school. So did I… So did Bebe. I guess most of us did, come to think of it. Still, that's no reason for it. No one deserves to be hurt.

It makes me think of Bebe and what happened to her at a party when we were sixteen. It still makes me so fucking angry and sad to think about it…

Before the thoughts can continue to pervade, the bell rings as the bar doors swing open. I turn around and spot Craig, looking sour as he approaches where me and Token are seated on stools.

"Are you okay?" I ask right away.

He shrugs and sits down, telling his uncle to pour him a scotch on the rocks.

"He's not okay," I mutter to Token, who frowns in response.

"How's it going, Craig?" Skeeter asks.

"Fine," he says simply. When his drink is set down in front of him, he picks it up and takes a long, cringe-worthy sip.

"Slow down, there," Token warns, putting a hand on Craig's shoulder only to have it shaken off a split second later.

Craig doesn't slow down. Not until he's slurring his speech, then we cut him off. His uncle is so damn oblivious, he'd probably keep letting Craig drink if we weren't around. He probably doesn't care that much. He probably just thinks it's funny, when in reality it's just sad.

Craig starts moaning and whining around 1AM. He gets off the bar stool and wavers back and forth. Me and Token join him, standing on each side of him so he won't fall.

"Let's take him home," Token says, putting an arm around Craig so he doesn't stumble.

I nod and the three of us exit the bar. As soon as the cold air hits us, Craig keels over and starts throwing up.

"Doesn't look like he ate much today," Token murmurs.

"Great…" I say sarcastically. I kneel down and pat Craig's back.

When he's done vomming, we dump him into the back seat of Token's car and he drives us to Craig's apartment. Token always has one beer and then he's satisfied. I usually have a few. So does Craig, but tonight is one of those nights when he has too much.

When we reach his house, he's half conscious. Token tosses Craig over his shoulder and we head up to the third floor. I dig Craig's keys out of his pocket and unlock the door, swinging it open as we pile inside.

"You should take him to the bathroom," I say. "I'll get him some water."

We haven't had to do this for Craig in a while.

It feels like we're sixteen again and Craig is puking in a stranger's bathroom at some party we crashed. But those days are long over. We're not dumb teenagers anymore. We're adults.

I fill a glass of water before heading to the bathroom, where Craig has his head in the toilet. Token looks weary as he rubs circles on Craig's back. "It's okay, let it out," he says in that soothing tone he probably uses for work.

I set the water down next to where Craig is sitting.

"Do you ever think you'll get married?" I ask Token.

"Is now really the time to be talking about this kind of thing?" he retorts.

"Craig's head is in the toilet," I point out. "I doubt he knows what the fuck is going on right now."

Token smiles wearily and there's a hint of pity in his expression. "Yeah, maybe I will someday… when I find the right guy."

"What kind of guy?" I ask. "What's your type?"

"Someone I can be real with," he starts. "I don't really have a type when it comes to looks, but I'm a sucker for a cute face…"

"Date Craig," I say with a little snicker.

He laughs at that. "I doubt Craig is ready to be in a committed relationship."

"If he was…?" I pry.

"Then maybe I'd want to know if he was into me," Token admits. "Though… I really hate when he gets like this. I know it doesn't happen often, but it's still not nice to see."

"Yeah…" I murmur.

Craig lets out a whimper, coughing and spitting. Token grabs him by the shoulders and forces him to sit up straight. "Are you done?"

"I'unno…" Craig slurs.

Token grabs a wad of toilet paper and wipes Craig's mouth and chin off. I think Token enters Dad-mode at times like this.

I pick up the water and hand it to Craig. He takes a few sips and then sets it down, spilling it in the process before trying to take his shirt off.

"Dude, no," I say, grabbing his hands. "Keep your clothes on."

He stands up and stumbles out of the bathroom, wandering into his bedroom. Me and Token follow him, making sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself or anything.

Token moves towards Craig's dresser and fetches him a change of more comfortable clothing as Craig inevitably sheds his current attire.

"I want to ask Bebe to marry me," I add suddenly.

"Finally," Token says with a faint smile as he helps Craig change like one would a child.

Craig gets like this sometimes. It's like he completely regresses and it isn't just the alcohol's doing. But maybe that's part of the BPD. I don't really know much about it. I should probably start doing some in depth research.

"Ugh…" Craig moans, flopping lifelessly onto his bed once he's clothed. He grabs a handful of his quilt and rests his cheek on it. Then, out of the blue, he starts to cry.

I glance at Token, who looks empathetic. With a sigh, he sits on the edge of Craig's bed.

"Craig, what's wrong?" he asks.

But of course, Craig doesn't answer.

He never does.

* * *

 **April.**

Craig has been avoiding me and Token. I think he's embarrassed. He might not remember the details of what happened, but he probably remembers getting emotional and the fact that Token had to wipe the puke off his chin and help him get dressed for bed.

We both stayed the night, crashing on the pull-out mattress in the living room. Craig was pretty hung over the next morning. He's just lucky he didn't have to work.

Token managed to coax answers out of him in the morning and he later relayed the responses to me.

" _He said he just felt overwhelmingly sad for no seeming reason and he cried in his office and one of his employees saw when coming to ask for a shift change_ ," Token explained, shrugging.

" _Oh…"_ I mumbled. " _He was probably pretty ashamed of that… you know how he gets about that kind of stuff, especially considering that he likes to remain as professional as possible."_

" _He's only human_ ," Token said with another shrug.

" _Think it's the truth, though_?" I wondered. " _I mean, maybe it happened… but maybe it's just half of the truth, y'know?"_

Token shrugged. " _He fibs a lot, so who knows_."

And it's true. It's second nature for Craig to lie to people. He probably sees his lies as unimportant and small – things that won't affect anyone else… but the fact that it affects him in a negative way should be enough for him to stop. Craig is masterful at bottling up his emotions. Like I always say, it probably comes from never being validated by his parents. That isn't to say they were horrible. They weren't. They were just… not particularly affectionate.

"What are you thinking about?" Bebe asks me. She's currently feeding Betsy the boob as we chill out in the living room.

I like nights like this. We're both home and it's quiet and we're all together – one little family. It feels perfect.

"Craig," I tell her.

She chuckles. "Should I be jealous?"

I smile faintly. "No. I just worry."

"Yeah," she says with a sigh. "He's the kind of guy you sometimes feel like you need to worry about. He gets so messy sometimes."

"Yeah," I mumble.

Since I tell her everything, I've already told her about Craig's little display last month. She has seen him in many similar states back when we were in high school. That was typical for a teenage weekend, though. We were all so damn sloppy. I can recall some pretty disastrous times.

Craig once got so sloshed he ran outside and tried to jump in front of a car. It was a scary night. I still remember how much I screamed at him for it, though I doubt he even remembered any of it come morning. Some nights aren't so funny to look back on… but others are. I once passed out in a bathtub covered in my own puke. Craig was unconscious nearby lying next to the toilet. We had pretty wicked hangovers… and don't even get me started on the way Bebe was in high school. She has mellowed out a lot since then, but I don't blame her for the way she acted. She was dealing with a lot. She's strong, though. She always pushes through her problems and these days she has healthy ways to cope with whatever life throws at her.

She's amazing.

"I love you," I say out of the blue, watching as she breastfeeds Betsy.

She smiles. "I love you, too."

* * *

 **May.**

I swing by Costco since I know Craig's shift is ending in a little while. He's holding a clipboard, wearing a plaid button-down and some jeans. Behind his ear is a blue pen and in his hand is a highlighter. Every few minutes one of his workers approaches him and he gives them a task to do. Since the store is closing, everyone is scrambling around.

A young, blonde teenage girl approaches and asks, "I just closed my till. Where do you want me?"

Craig glances down at his clipboard. "It's almost seven… and you're off in fifteen minutes. Go grab a cart of weeds 'til then."

She nods and then wanders off. When she's gone, Craig glances at me, finally choosing to acknowledge me.

"I'm embarrassed."

That's Craig's excuse?

I let out a sigh and say, "Why, though? It's been over a month and I'm your best friend. Token is your best friend. We're not going to judge you. We all overdo it sometimes."

"I was like a damn child," he mutters.

I let out another sigh. "Look, Token told me that you were _abused_ ," I add, whispering the word.

Craig rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I thought he might. So, what? Are you going to go ahead and assume that that's why I act up sometimes? Well… you're probably right, so I won't get mad about it."

"You seem mad," I point out, eying his rigid stance.

He shrugs, forcibly attempting to loosen up. "Look, I'll let you drive me home since I didn't take my car today. We can talk on the ride. I'm off at seven. I just need to give the clipboard to another supervisor, then I'll meet you at your car."

"All right," I agree, turning away and heading outside. When I get to my car, I check the time on my phone. One more minute until 7PM…

I turn on the car, flicking through radio stations for a few minutes until I see Craig exit. He gets in the passenger seat and I pull out of my parking space.

"One of my relatives," he says suddenly.

"What?" I ask stupidly, giving him a quick side glance before returning my attention to the road.

"You want to know who did it, right?" he asks airily. "You want to know who abused me? One of my relatives on my dad's side… and before you pry, no, my parents don't know. It would cause too much conflict and I don't want to be the center of that kind of negative attention."

I frown, feeling solemn. Craig is so permissive. I wonder if that's the reason why. He takes a lot of shit from people and won't stick up for himself – whether it's Jason ripping on him for something dumb or whether it's his employees shit-talking him in the break room.

"It's fine," Craig insists a split second later. "Don't get all sympathetic. It's not even a big deal."

"Dude… yeah, it is…" I murmur.

"He just smacked me around a bit," Craig dismisses my concern. "I'm fine. It didn't even happen that often."

"It bothers you, though," I say knowingly. "I can tell… So, don't feel like you need to fake it. I know you better than that."

"Lying is natural for me," he admits, sounding sombre. "I don't know why I lie so much. I guess I just don't want people worrying about me all the time."

"We do anyway," I mention.

He snorts at that. "I guess…"

"You should give Token a call," I add. "He's been waiting to hear from you."

"Has he?" Craig wonders, perking up a bit.

"Yeah, duh," I say with a smile.

"Okay…" he says. "I will, then."

* * *

 **June.**

I don't know when to ask Bebe. I can't seem to find the right time. Maybe it's because there's too much on my mind these days. I don't even have a ring yet.

I'm constantly worrying about shit and we're so busy. By the time me and Bebe have some alone time, we aren't really in the mood for romance. We just want to chill out and rest.

I have this elaborate fantasy in my head of how it will go over, but I know it isn't going to be like that at all. I'll probably be a nervous wreck by the time I get the words out, though I've done it before. I feel like I did it all wrong last time. I'm glad she said no. I'm glad she told me to wait. I'm glad she told me to ask her another time because that time wasn't right. Maybe this time will be.

I just want to make her feel special. I want her to know how much she means to me – how much I love her.

It's late now. She's asleep and so is Betsy, but it's my turn to answer her cries tonight. I know I probably won't get too much sleep. I'm sitting in the living room doing a little bit of reading. I picked up a few books on borderline personality disorder from the library. I know everyone is different and I'm not sure what Craig struggles with the most, but it all sounds awful and I really feel for him. I can't even begin to imagine what he feels like on a regular basis.

I want to be supportive and understanding – more so than I've been in the past. I know there were times when I've acted impatiently. I wish I had been more like Token. He's sincere, understanding, patient, kind and he makes people feel comfortable… though he can be firm when the time calls for it.

He has this special gift about him. He's really good with people and talking to him makes you want to open up to him and tell him all your secrets. It's like you somehow know he'll never betray your trust.

Craig seems okay again lately. He says it comes and goes in cycles and it's just something he has grown used to. I wonder if he'll ever recover. Is it even possible? For his own sake, I hope so. He says therapy helps, but only a bit. Still, a little can mean a lot when it comes to progress.

Come morning, Craig swings by to help Bebe since it's his day off. I thank him before scurrying off to work.

They've been spending more time together lately. For that, I'm glad. I think it would be nice for them to become better friends, especially since they're both so important to me. I want them to be important to each other as well.

* * *

 **July.**

Summer is here. Finally, the snow has melted and we're welcoming the warm weather. Me and Bebe are sitting at the park. Bebe is breastfeeding Betsy and some old farts look sour about it, but she's pretty good at ignoring it.

We spend the morning walking around and enjoying the greenery because we know it won't be around for long. We may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

Around noon, we decide to head to Tweek Bros to get coffee. Inside, we spot Tweek and chat with him as he takes our order. Bebe gets a tea and I get a mocha Frappuccino. When we're about to leave, I spot Token and Craig sitting in the corner. I swerve past a few teenagers and make my way towards them.

"Hey!" I exclaim. "Are you guys on a date?"

"Clyde!" Craig snaps.

"Yeah, kind of," Token says.

A moment later, Bebe appears beside me. "Aw, is Croken finally happening?" she coos, joking around with them. "You guys are Clyde's OTP."

Token chuckles, but Craig grimaces at me, probably not finding much amusement in the couple name.

She laughs at his reaction and then grabs my arm, "We'll leave you to it, then. Sorry to disrupt. Have fun!"

With that, she drags me away, pushing the stroller out the door.

"I can't believe it," I muse aloud. "They're actually out on a date…"

"Dreams do come true!" Bebe teases me.

I smile, giving her a gentle nudge in the arm. "I think they'd be good together."

"I know you do," she says, "and I guess the rest of it is up to them. Don't be too broken up about it if your ship sinks. If it's meant to be, it's meant to be."

And I guess she's right about that.

* * *

 **August.**

Towards the end of the month, I return home from work to see Bebe and Craig sitting in the living room. It looks like I just walked in on something intense.

"Hey…" I start. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Craig says before Bebe can respond. With that, he stands up. "I'm going to head out," he adds, shooting Bebe a meaningful look before leaving without another word.

She smiles faintly, but doesn't say anything more.

I watch him go, feeling unsure. "What was that all about?" I ask as soon as Craig is gone. "You guys talked?"

"He talked," she corrects. "I mostly listened."

"I won't pry…" I say, even though I want to. I REALLY want to.

She smiles wearily, probably sensing my curiosity. "It's okay. He said I could tell you because he thought you should know and he didn't want to have to say it again so soon."

I sit down with her. Craig is the kind of person who doesn't like to repeat upsetting things, but I guess I understand that. Some things are so hard to get out the first time that a second seems impossible.

"Okay," I say, trying to prepare myself for whatever it is I'm about to hear.

She lets out a breath, leaning back in her seat. "I called him over earlier to help with Betsy. I guess it was a long shot, but I also wanted to see if he'd talk to me since he wasn't really talking to you or Token… and I kind of had this feeling. I didn't want to assume anything, but I recognized parts of myself in him. I've felt that way for a long time, but I never knew how to mention it. I didn't want to assume... but it was a feeling I had."

I tense up, feeling a sense of where this conversation is heading. "Oh…"

"So, when Betsy was sleeping I made tea," she continues. "I started by telling him about my own experiences in high school. I told him what those boys did to me at that party. He already knew, of course, but I felt like it was something I could share with him. I wanted him to know he could trust me and that I understood what it's like to be hurt."

I nod my head. "Yeah," I whisper.

"So, after a while, he talked," she says with a shrug. "He just said something like, 'Yeah, I know what that's like,' and then he opened up a bit."

I feel a wave of nausea. "Yeah…" I repeat myself.

"His uncle molested him," she explains, not sugar coating it.

His uncle…?

Skeeter?

Fuck.

I feel my eyes widen. "Oh…" I murmur weakly, feeling like I might choke. "Fuck… We go to his pub all the damn time…"

Bebe winces and then nods her head. "Ever wonder why he always overdoes it when you guys go there?"

"Fuck…" I say again, whispering the word and covering my mouth.

"I think that's why it's so hard for him to say that he likes men," she adds sadly.

I rub my palm over my forehead, letting out a sigh. "Christ, what a sin…" I murmur with sympathy. "Was it triggering for you to talk to him about that?"

She shakes her head. "I thought it would be, but it wasn't. It felt easy. I think Craig was keeping that in for a really, really long time."

Bebe was attacked when we were I grade ten. Some assholes drugged her and no one cared because she was known as a party girl. There was a lot of victim blaming.

I cried when I found out because I'm sensitive and it was such a horrible thing. There was a crazy party in an abandoned building on the outskirts of town the weekend before. Then there were rumours going around that a girl got raped. Bebe later told me that that girl was her and I swear my heart broke.

She grew so numb to it. She started buying prescription drugs to keep it that way. She lost a lot of weight and her parents forced her into a hospital the following summer. That's when they found out what happened… Everyone found out, but from then, things got better. She got help because she was ready.

Not all stories stay sad.

"I feel upset about it because it's an upsetting thing…" Bebe starts, "but I feel even sadder because I feel like me and Craig could have helped each other with what we were going through… If only we knew. We were going through a similar thing at a similar point in our lives."

"You know now," I say. "Maybe you can still help each other."

I know things get tough for her sometimes. She talks to me, but I can't really understand what she's going through. Maybe talking to someone who does understand a little bit better would be of some comfort.

* * *

 **September.**

The following week, I head to Craig's apartment since I know he got home early. He lets me in, looking like he was half expecting me.

Craig lives alone. He moved out when he was nineteen. He's incredibly independent, but he's also incredibly dependent. I know how much he hates living alone. He once told me that there are nights he can't stand it and he goes to his parents for the night.

"Did Bebe tell you?" Craig asks me, leading me into the living room. His home is small and comfortable. Everything has its place, but there are times when Craig's moods get low and he can't bring himself to clean.

"Yeah," I whisper. "Craig… I'm so, so, so sorry."

He lets out a bitter laugh before sinking into himself. "It's whatever…"

"No, it's not…" I murmur. "He's SHIT…"

He emits another laugh before letting out a sob. "Yeah," he says wetly, raising a palm to swipe at the tears on his cheeks. "Fuck…"

I put a hand on his shoulder and he shifts closer, so I wrap my arms around him. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," I say sincerely. "It wasn't your fault."

He doesn't respond. He just puts his forehead against my shoulder and cries. He's a quiet crier. He always has been. "I didn't want anyone to know…" he chokes out.

I try to be empathetic, but I can't. I can't imagine keeping something like that inside for as long as he did. I can't imagine how painful it must have been and how painful it is right now.

He pulls away from me, not bothering to hide his grief. "People always say that the cycle continues," he continues, sounding distant and numb. "I just… I don't want you to be scared of me being around your daughter. I love that little girl and I'd never hurt her, I swear."

He sounds afraid - afraid that I found out, afraid of how I'll react and afraid of what I'll say. It's kind of heartbreaking.

"Craig, no…" I say softly. "I'd never be scared of you hurting her. I know you'd never do a thing like that. You're good. You're a good, genuine, sincere guy."

"I don't know why I told Bebe," he murmurs in admittance, swiping at his leaky eyes. "I just… came out."

"Does Token know?" I ask.

Craig nods his head. "Not as much as I told Bebe, but yeah, he knows. I told her first and it made me realize I could actually talk about it. Then I told Token and then my family."

"You told your parents?"

He nods. "On the weekend."

"How did it go?" I pry.

He wrinkles his nose. "They were really sad, but they didn't doubt me. They kind of knew Skeeter was a creep, which is why they didn't really let him around us that much. I think my dad is taking it harder, though, since it's his brother…"

"Yeah," I say softly. "Shit, man… I'm sorry. I'm sorry we all dragged you there so many times in the past."

He shrugs. "You didn't know. I could have said no, but I never did… I just wanted to pretend everything was normal and nothing bad happened."

"I understand," I say.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself," he adds. "I'm sorry I always keep secrets from you."

"It's okay," I promise. "Some things are hard to say out loud more than once."

He nods his head and looks contemplative. "It gets easier, though. Bebe said that and she's kind of right. I think my therapist is going to be pleased that I'm finally making progress with something I've been bottling since I was fifteen."

I smile a small smile. "I'm glad to hear that."

* * *

 **October.**

What now?

I feel like things are supposed to change now. Do they get better? Do they get worse? And for whom?

But nothing has changed. Craig is still the same. I'm still the same. Bebe is still the same. Token is still the same. Everyone is the same.

I don't know what I expected to change or why, but it feels like there should be more. It feels like something good should happen right about now. It's about fucking time that something good happens.

Bebe and Craig hang out a lot more now. I guess they found something in one another. I think it's a good thing. Craig and Token are officially together. One date turned into two, which turned into more. Craig says he's surprised he hasn't fucked it all up yet. I don't think he gives himself as much credit as he deserves.

Craig said he didn't want any of us to tiptoe around him. He didn't want us to shy away from certain conversation topics just because we found out his secret. He said he wants things to stay the same – to stay normal. I think that's a fair request. In fact, it's more than fair. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't want people to be overly cautious and piteous all the time, either. I'd just snap.

I pick Craig up after therapy and we get takeout from City Wok before heading back to my house. Bebe is on the sofa feeding Betsy and watching some action flick on the TV.

"How was therapy?" Bebe asks Craig.

"Good," he says. "I asked my doctor if he felt like I was making any progress and he said yes. We talked about that a little bit. I think that once the denial subsided, things began to improve. I mean… you can't really cope with something if you refuse to acknowledge it."

"That's true," Bebe says with a small smile. "I'm glad to hear things are going better."

"Thanks," Craig musters up with sincerity.

We all sit down and dig into our junky dinner, chatting about mindless things. Craig says work is a little different and it seems that word got around that he was in his office crying and none of his employees are giving him a hard time anymore. He says he hates the pity, but he's trying not to let it get to him. At least they aren't being mean anymore.

Token swings by later and we all bum around for the night, channel surfing and chatting. He sits closely with Craig on the sofa opposite to me and Bebe. They aren't really into public displays of affection and it makes me wonder how far they've gotten, as perverse as it sounds. So, I decide to be a little asshole and pry.

"Did you guys sleep together yet?" I ask bluntly.

"Clyde," Craig mutters with a sigh.

"Yeah," Token says before receiving a nudge from Craig.

"Aw, don't be shy, Craig," Bebe coos. "We're all friends here, so feel free to give us some of the details."

"No, thanks," Craig says with a laugh.

"Are the rumours true, Token?" Bebe asks. "Does Craig fuck like he's on acid?"

Craig's jaw drops to the floor. "Wow! That's one I never heard."

Token chokes back a surprised laugh and then says, "I'll just let you wonder."

* * *

 **November.**

It was Betsy's first birthday today. Everyone came over and we took a lot of pictures. It was a nice day. Now me and Bebe are chilling in the living room. Betsy is asleep. She's probably tired from being the center of attention all day.

"Clyde?" comes Bebe's voice, ripping me away from my thoughts.

"Hm?" I ask, glancing at her.

She shifts closer to me. "I want to ask you something," she says, sounding serious.

"What is it?" I laugh nervously. "You're kinda freaking me out."

She smiles a small smile. "Nothing to be worried about, don't worry."

"What, then?" I urge.

"Um…" she trails off, pausing. "I want to get married. I've been thinking about it a lot. I know you've asked me before and I said no, but I'm ready now. We can have a nice, long engagement. So, maybe Betsy can be our flower girl… So, uh… Clyde, will you marry me?"

I smile at her.

Then I say yes.

* * *

 **December.**

So, it didn't go the way I planned. I wasn't able to pick a perfect moment to ask her myself. Instead, she asked me. And hey, I kind of liked that it happened this way.

We announce our engagement. Wendy throws us a party and everyone congratulates us on finally deciding to tie the knot.

More time passes and Christmas approaches. Tonight, we're having a little holiday get together. Our richly decorated tree is standing in the corner of the room and some Christmas special is on television.

Wendy brought her camera. She has been taking pictures all night.

"Group one!" she declares, drawing everyone together on the sofa. I sit next to Bebe, who is holding Betsy. Token puts an arm around Craig and he shifts closer. It's nice to see. I think they're honestly so good for one another.

Wendy positions the camera, setting up a timer before running back to the sofa. We all squeeze together and smile as the camera counts down.

Three…

Two…

One.

"Say cheese!"

 _Click_.

 **Fin.**


End file.
